


I'm just trying to get home

by OffTheRecord



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Dancing, Domestic, Fluff, M/M, References to Shakespeare, References to War, World War II, and this is all i could come up with, i just needed some soft sledgefu in my life, sledgefu, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 17:58:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17606171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OffTheRecord/pseuds/OffTheRecord
Summary: “C’mon.”“What are you doing, Snaf?” They’re standing in the middle of the living room now, their socks slipping on the wooden floor.“I’m teachin’ you how to dance,” Merriell responds.Or the one domestic Sledgefu fic in which Snafu tries to be romantic and teaches Eugene how to dance.





	I'm just trying to get home

**Author's Note:**

> Well here’s this thing I wrote! I’m a sucker for some domestic Sledgefu. I needed some softness after watching The Pacific for the second time because fucking OUCH, they really went and did that didn’t they? Headcanon: Merriell is a Shakespeare loving gay and Sledge is an awkward bean who can’t dance. Enjoy!

Home is different. Thank God it’s different. From the time it took him to leave Alabama, get shipped to a different country, have gun shoved to his chest and a helmet slapped over his head, Eugene had forgotten what home was like. Looking back on it, two years seemed to fly by. It was strange; quite unsettling in fact.

In two years, most people would have found someone, fell in love with someone, settled down, married, and started a family. He could have enrolled in school. He could have been done with his degree by now. In two years, he could have traveled to Mars and back.

Instead, he spent his time staying awake in a state of anxiety; keeping his eyes glued to the line of trees in front of him, watching and waiting for any sign of movement. He spent his two years putting bullets into the chest of the enemy, watching blood pour from their infected wounds. He spent his time learning how to kill without emotion. No matter what he did, Eugene’s time had been spent.

But now, as he sits on the couch and gazes passed the pages of his book, looking down at the mop of curls resting in his lap, he realizes that perhaps everything was worth it. All of the blood, death, and trauma he had experienced has led him to this single moment; a moment of peace and comfort.

Eugene realizes that he never would have met Snafu if it wasn’t for the war. He never would have learned his name or what he likes, what he dreams about, or what makes him tick. He never would have been there when he was knocked to the ground from the explosion of a rogue bomb. Maybe no one would’ve gone back for him. Maybe Merriell would have just been a name whispered by his mother in a soft prayer before she turned the lights off to his empty room.

“Why’d you stop?” He hears Snafu ask. Eugene shuts the book and his fingers find a more interesting task; running through Merriell’s tangled hair.

“It was starting to get boring.”

He sees Merriell grin up at him, slightly titling his chin back in quiet defiance. “But I like it when you read out loud,” he replies, his lips coming together in childish pout. Eugene simply rolls his eyes.

“You’ve already read this one twice.”

Ever since the war ended, ever since Eugene went searching for him, ever since they found a place to call their own, Merriell has never ceased to amaze him. As much as he wanted others to think, Snafu was no idiot. He reads and writes and draws things that make Eugene feel small compared to the world they live in. He’ll often wake up to the quiet sound of a graphite pencil scribbling against paper in a rush, long before the sun even rises, as Snafu tries to jot down every detail of the dream he had before he forgets.

“Yeah, but you were just gettin’ to the best part,” Snafu adds. Eugene glances down at the heavy weight of Snafu’s head resting in his lap.

“You think the best part is where Romeo and Juliet dance with each other?”

“They ain’t gonna dance with each other,” he retorts. His knowledge of this story far proceeds his own. “This is when they first meet, face to face.”

Eugene lets out a small laugh. “Oh good, I was starting to think you were going soft on me.”

Snafu gets up, the coolness of his absence weighing heavy on Eugene’s thigh. “You got something against men knowin’ how to dance?” Merriell looks slightly offended, but his voice is teasing. Eugene quickly shakes his head.

“Nah, just seems like a useless talent I guess,” Eugene responds, placing the book on top of the small wooden stand to his left. Besides the cloth-covered couch, it’s the only piece of furniture they could afford to adorn their dark living room.

“You don’t know how, do you?”

To Eugene, Merriell’s question definitely sounds more like a statement; like he already knows the answer before he even gets the chance to respond.  

“Never needed to learn how.” Eugene was never the type of person who wanted to experience a night on the town. He was never the type who would dress up and court girls and bring them flowers and take them to the most questionable places that were known for drunken brawls. He had always been the shy kind; the one who preferred to stay home and lay in his bed with his dog somewhere nearby.

“Do you?” He asks Merriell, earning an eye roll and a scoff in return.

“‘Course I do, Sledge.” He sounds so proud in his answer. “Grew up with three little sisters, was a matter of time before I knew I had to learn.”

And Eugene finds himself picturing a young Merriell dancing barefoot around his too small of a house for a too big of family, holding his sisters’ hands and spinning them around the tight space of their living room. He imagines a record playing in the background, the pin quietly scratching against the vinyl. He imagines the small pout on his sister’s face when Snafu tells her she has to take turns. He imagines his smile and the high pitched laughs coming from his siblings as his mother watches from the behind the wooden frame of the door. The Snafu in his dreams smiles a lot more than the one that is sitting next to him.

It only takes a moment before Merriell gets up from his place on the couch and walks over to the radio they have resting on the white ledge of their windowsill. It’s small and brown and the knobs are too big and it looks tacky, but it makes their small home seem just a little bit larger.

A soft jazz tune fills the room, making the air seem warmer and Eugene feels his cheeks begin to flush. It’s relaxing and the sound of a trumpet carries, filling his head with fuzz. He watches as Merriell stands in front of the box for a second, his eyes closing as he listens. It only takes a moment before he walks back towards Eugene and extends his hand, waiting for him to grab it.

“C’mon.”

Eugene hesitates before taking his hand. But soon, he’s being pulled from his seat on the couch.

“What are you doing, Snaf?” They’re standing in the middle of the living room now, their socks slipping on the wooden floor.

“I’m teachin’ you how to dance,” Merriell responds. “Here, put your hand like this,” he instructs, taking Eugene’s wrist and placing his hand gently on his left shoulder. He feels Merriell’s arm wrap around his side, his hand resting against the small of his back.

“Why do I have to be the girl?” Eugene asks, trying to ease the gracelessness of his situation. Merriell rolls his eyes.

“’Cause I know what I’m doin’. Once you know how foxtrot as good as Fred Astaire, then we can talk.” Merriell clears his throat before continuing. “Alright, now all you gotta do is follow my lead. If I step forward, then you gotta step back.”

Eugene feels his cheeks begin to burn in embarrassment before he nods his head in understanding. He wasn’t expecting Merriell to start off so quickly; the movement definitely caught Eugene off guard. It was messy, he stepped forward when he should have stepped back and he ended up stepping on Snafus’ toes with the ball of his foot.

Even though Merriell doesn’t react, Eugene still feels bad. “I’m sorry,” he says quickly, searching Snafu’s eyes for any sign of annoyance. He finds none. Instead, Merriell is smiling, trying his best to stifle his laughter.

“Damnnit Sledge, how’d they let you enlist with two left feet?”

And Eugene is the first to laugh. He never thought he’d be able to enlist in the Marines with is irregular heartbeat and it came as a surprise when he was able to proudly wear their dark green uniform. He’s not so proud of it now, but without it, he would never have gotten to where he is now; smiling and joking with Snafu in the dim lighting of their home.

“Let’s try it again,” Eugene states, grinning in amusement.

They resume their positions; Eugene’s hand on Snafu’s shoulder and Snafu’s hand on Gene’s lower back. It takes him a few tries, but he starts to get the hang of it. It’s simple when he doesn’t think about it, he just lets Snafu lead. He’s effortless in his movements and suddenly, all of the embarrassment Eugene had felt before has completely vanished.

“Why are you so good at this?”

Snafu shrugs a little before responding. “New Orleans is the birthplace of the two greatest gifts given to mankind.” He pauses, glancing down at their feet. “One is jazz music.”

Eugene waits for him to continue, but when he doesn’t, he prods. “And what’s the other?” Snafu looks back up at him, an uneven smirk spread across his lips.

“You’re lookin’ at him, boo.”

Eugene shakes his head and rolls his eyes before smiling back. Because that is the same smug, overconfident, self-assured Merriell he came to know during the war. “Shut up, Mer.”

And Snafu leans forward, resting his forehead against Eugene’s shoulder. Their hands that are holding onto one another grasp a little bit harder. Their movements slow down and the song playing from the radio continues to fill the room.

And Eugene thinks that, sure, home may be different, but it’s the same too; in all of the good ways. In all of the good ways, home is Merriell.


End file.
